


Chocolate

by OrchidScript



Series: Homefront (1940s AU) [2]
Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Found Family, Gen, pure childhood fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrchidScript/pseuds/OrchidScript
Summary: Holland didn’t bat an eye when Nasi wandered into the kitchen one morning, still in her pajamas with blonde bedhead, and asked for hot water. He simply stood up and started the kettle, refilling his coffee as he did. He didn’t raise an eyebrow as the little girl checked cabinets until she found an orange canister; simply watched her retrieve a spoon and deposit whatever was inside into her special teacup.“Natasha,” Holland began quietly, watching the kettle on the stove more than he watched her. “What do you have there?”“Chocolate.”(A 1940s AU one-shot)
Series: Homefront (1940s AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143779
Kudos: 3





	Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Another short 1940s one-shot because Holland and Nasi in this AU take up all the free real estate available in my brain at all times. it was inspired by that one plot line in the movie, A Christmas Story, and written way back in December 2020 as a counterpoint to the much sadder Traditions one shot. I had no idea what else to title it way back when and have no desire to change it. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)

Holland didn’t bat an eye when Nasi wandered into the kitchen one morning, still in her pajamas with blonde bedhead, and asked for hot water. He simply stood up and started the kettle, refilling his coffee as he did. He didn’t raise an eyebrow as the little girl checked cabinets until she found an orange canister; simply watched her retrieve a spoon and deposit whatever was inside into her special teacup.

“Natasha,” Holland began quietly, watching the kettle on the stove more than he watched her. “What do you have there?”

“Chocolate,” Nasi replied, shrugging. The collar of her pajamas — a worn flannel set cut and sewn from one of Holland’s old shirts —caught on her hair.

Holland sipped his coffee. “What kind of chocolate?”

“The kind on the radio show at night.” Nasi stowed the orange tin back where she found it. When the kettle boiled, she lifted it up for him to pour water into. 

Holland nodded as if he understood. When he turned on the standing radio after dinner, he was listening for the news, not the show that came before it. He knew the name of the announcer was Alucard Emery and that after six in the evening, it was the only thing Nasi would sit still for, save reading herself a bedtime story. If he thought hard about it, he likely would be able to pinpoint what she was talking about. But it was early on a Saturday and Holland decided that was more work than he was truly willing to do.

“Chocolate for breakfast, eh…” He mused, turning the burner off. He pointed to her little blue cup and the brownish powder in the bottom. “Where did you get it, Natasha?”

She couldn’t have bought it herself. Nasi was too young for her own spending money and Holland didn’t care for the _weekly_ _allowance_ that so many school parents told him about. It was to teach responsibility, according to them. Holland didn’t see how letting a child run wild with pocket change taught more responsibility than anything else he could do. 

He held his tongue, hoping it wasn’t given to her by one of her classmate’s mothers. They already looked at him with more amusement than he liked, already offered enough unsolicited advice; treated him as if he were well and truly helpless raising Nasi alone, then made eyes at him as soon as they could. He didn’t want Nasi getting the idea that he wouldn’t give her something if she asked.

Nasi frowned and stood on her toes, shaking her cup at him.

Holland placed his hand over the top. “Tell me, Natasha. Then the water.”

She huffed, dropping back onto her heels. “I traded Sal for it.”

“Traded?” Holland’s eyebrows raised now, and he suppressed a frantic need to check the apartment top to bottom. “What did you trade?”

“ _Pelmeni_ ,” Nasi answered, pointing to the refrigerator. “I gave him the bag and he gave me the chocolate. Easy-peasy.” Nasi pointed to the kettle. “Water now.”

Holland wiped a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Who needed to teach responsibility when Nasi was already bartering with the neighborhood butcher. He was just wracking his brain for another solution to their now traded dinner when Nasi poked him in the stomach.

“Water now!”

“Water _please_ , Natasha.” Holland replied gently.

“Water _please_ , Holland.” 

“Go sit at the table, then I will pour the water in,” Holland exhaled. When she didn’t move, green eyes determined, Holland simply pointed to the small kitchen table. “Natasha. Sit.”

Blue cup clutched to her chest, Nasi did as he asked. Holland leaned against the stove and watched, moving to fill her cup only after she had settled against the chair back. He let the water pour in slowly, stirring gently until it was a smooth pale brown. He replaced the kettle and picked up his own coffee, inhaling the warm scent deeply. It smelled better than whatever Nasi was insisting on drinking.

Holland settled himself at the opposite seat from Nasi. He refolded the newspaper he had bought the night before, taking note of the small sips the six-year-old was taking, of how her nose curled briefly with each one. Displeased with it, but determined to keep drinking it, or so it seemed. 

He turned his eyes back to the newsprint. “Why did you trade for it, Natasha?”

“‘Cause I wanted it.”

“Did you think I would not buy it for you?” Holland asked, keeping his tone obviously patient and curious. The little girl was developing a rebellious streak right alongside her sensitivity for punishment. She wasn’t in trouble and Holland wasn’t going to act as if she was — another tactic school parents said was effective.

Nasi shook her head. “No, but you didn’t get paid right last week so I wanted to get it myself.”

Holland raised his eyes long enough to watch her take in a large mouthful and swallow. He hid the smile that threatened when he saw disgust cross her face. “So… why did you want it?”

“The chocolate?”

“Yes, Nasi.”

“‘Cause if I drink it I get a prize.”

“What sort of prize?” Holland knew his past self would have twisted into knots over the constant back and forth of questions. The little girl had changed much about him; his well of patience was the most evident.

“A secret decoder pin!” Nasi answered, all ire forgotten and replaced with excitement. “For the radio! If I drink enough, I can get a pin an’ then I can decode the secret stuff at the end of the show!”

“They must be very secret indeed, Nasi,” Holland replied, turning the newspaper over. He wasn’t reading anymore, using the thing as a prop, perhaps a crutch. “How do you earn the prize?”

“You cut a square off the wrapper and send it in, and if you have enough they send you a pin,” Nasi explained very matter-of-factly. “Ari at school gave me some, so I only have to get 2 more. Then I have the five I need!”

“You need five then?” Holland nodded, quietly relieved this would not go too long. “That was kind of your classmate—.”

“Ari.”

“Yes, that was kind of Ari.” Holland rested his palms flat on the newspaper and looked up at her. “Natasha, you can ask me for these things. You understand, yes?”

Nasi nodded. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You are not a bother, Natasha. If what you want is… powdered chocolate, then I will get it for you. No need to trade the _pelmeni_ for it, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” Holland held out his hand, motioning for the cup with his fingers. “Is it very bad tasting?”

Nasi pursed her lips and shrugged. She pushed the little blue cup to him. “It’s not… They made it sound better at school.”

Holland raised an eyebrow, then raised the cup to his lips. Nasi watched him closely as he tasted it, swallowing tightly. He made a face, reaching for his coffee as soon as he put Nasi’s drink down. “That is not chocolate.”

The little girl had dissolved into giggles. She rested her head on her arms, pink cheeked and grinning at him.

Holland couldn’t help but smile. “Yes alright, it’s very funny. Perhaps breakfast would make it taste better?”

“Special pancakes?”

Holland nodded. “If you say it after me — _syrniki_.”

“ _Syr-niki_.”

“Perfect.”


End file.
